TrueLesbianLove.Com

by Carsen Taite

  She rewarded herself with some suitable bedtime reading.

  Dylan’s glance swept down ducking her paramour’s rapt gaze. She fought the urge to echo the words, resisting the easy, but unsure path. Sensing the gathering uncertainty from the woman waiting silently within her reach, she gathered words to fill the void. “Darling, I love being with you. I feel amazing in your presence.”

  She watched and knew Shannon caught the subtlety of her dodged response. Tears formed as Dylan felt the force of feeling that was growing between them. Sobs choked her next words, but she knew she needed to share everything with her new lover. “I have something to confess.”

  Mac paused, once more bothered that she hadn’t been able to reach Jordan. It was unreasonable to expect her to be on call for fashion consultations, and Mac was used to leaving messages. They were both busy women, and she respected Jordan’s space. But she’d never felt the way she did now, that she had something to prove to Jordan. She closed Lost Lives and rolled onto her side. Jordan’s comments at Starbucks the previous weekend still rankled and Mac felt a growing need to prove something to her. Jordan might not see her as partner material but someone else would, and when that happened Mac was going to enjoy flaunting her new love.

  Blinded by the sharp sunlight glancing off the hood of her car, Jordan hurriedly reached for her Fendi shades and unlocked the door of her M5. She slid into the driver’s seat, enjoying the way the cushioned leather fit against her body.

  The crisp fall air fueled her appetite as she drove with the top down through Oak Lawn to her favorite weekend brunch spot, La Duni. Lots of midnight exercise motivated her to select a dozen of her favorite pastries. She sipped on a rich mocha at the bar while waiting for the staff to box her Latin treats: guava and cheese glorias, orange brioche, mantecadas, and pecan maple pastry, complete with lemon curd and raspberry butter. This gayborhood spot made for some excellent people-

  watching, and she reluctantly pulled herself away when the hostess brought her check.

  The crowd was growing thick at the popular bakery and Jordan had to wait several minutes for the valet to bring her car around. While she waited, she tried Mac’s number again, a little guilty that she was only replying to last night’s missed calls twelve hours later. But Mac took most Sundays off and could be counted on to share this box of goodies over a pot of coffee while Jordan regaled her with the highlights of her two dates with Rebeca. After the fifth ring, Mac’s voicemail announced that she couldn’t get to the phone right now and invited the caller to leave a message. Jordan clicked off and decided on Plan B. Mac was probably in the shower and would be out by the time Jordan arrived.

  The drive across town was short on a Sunday morning, as most Dallas cars were either nestled in garages or parked at churches and favorite brunch spots. Jordan pulled into Mac’s long driveway, admiring her friend’s restored 1920s bungalow.

  The house was vastly different from Jordan’s high-rise loft, which said a lot about their personalities. Mac had grown up in a warm family environment and seemed to replicate that past in each part of her life without even realizing it. The Lakeside was casual and welcoming, and Mac’s home was the kind of place that seemed to cry out for Thanksgiving dinners and a dog in the yard. Jordan had fond memories of walking in the door and being greeted with hugs by Mac’s parents.

  The Lewises fit together seamlessly. As an outsider, Jordan could see they had their issues. Running their business together caused a lot of tension, but they worked through their problems and tried to keep their family from noticing that they had any. She remembered hearing whispered fights sometimes, over whether the diner was consuming their lives and keeping them from other dreams. They could never seem to get away and they worried about finances and having enough to help all their kids in school. Yet they were glass-half-full kinds of people. They stayed together in the face of conflict, their pact as a couple too strong to be defeated by external challenges.

  Jordan couldn’t imagine having a relationship like that.

  She thought about Rebeca and laughed. None of the women she dated would ever consider settling for a life like that. The thought made her stop a moment as she parked behind a truck in the driveway. Would it be “settling” to know she could depend completely on another person, no matter what? Jordan shrugged off the thought. Ties like that were for people who wanted children. She had different priorities. And besides, she didn’t have to be in a long-term relationship to have someone who truly cared about her. She could count on Mac.

  Jordan lingered as she got out of her vehicle and breathed in the earthly aroma. Spying rakes, shovels, and leaf blowers poking out from the iron grate lining the truck bed, she assumed that Mr. Diaz was somewhere on the property. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air, confirming her suspicions. She spotted the gardener and called, “Hey, Mr. Diaz. Is Mackenzie home?”

  He propped his rake against a garden cart. “She went to the bookstore.”

  “Well, that wasn’t very nice of her,” Jordan joked. “I brought breakfast and gossip. How dare she get started this early on a Sunday morning.”

  “She left about ten minutes ago,” Mr. Diaz said, dragging a bag of lawn clippings toward her. “I wanted to talk to her about changing the flower beds, but she said she was running late.”

  Jordan scratched her head at the report. What in the world could Mac have been late for at the bookstore? “Well, why don’t you take this box of goodies, then?”

  She thrust the La Duni box into his hands and returned to her car. With the engine idling, she vacillated for a few seconds, reluctant to bust in on Mac if she was trying to take some time out on her own. But she and Mac often spent hours at Half Price Books, and their tastes were very different, so they usually split up to browse the aisles, then met back in the coffee shop to share the spoils of their hunt.

  Jordan sped uptown hoping to catch her. Apparently lots of folks had decided to do their Sunday morning at the bookstore. She had to circle the parking lot for at least ten minutes, vying for a space. Finally, her parking karma kicked in and she grabbed a spot near the coffee shop entrance of the store. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, brushed a few windblown hairs back into place, and slid out of the car.

  Her shades barely provided enough protection from the sun reflecting from the large plate glass windows along the entire front of the store. Using one hand as a shield, she used the other to open the door to the coffee shop and walked into the icy cold refrigerated air all Texas businesses used to combat the searing summer heat.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the indoor lighting. Almost immediately, she spotted Mac across the room, enjoying a cup of java. Smiling, she started to wave but stopped before her hand could reach the air. Who in the world was that woman sitting with Mac? It wasn’t any of their friends. Whoever she was, she was certainly acting very friendly, leaning in close and hanging on Mac’s every word. She was fairly nice looking but rather plain, with mousy brown hair combed in a nondescript style, average build, and forgettable features. Her ensemble was a boring combination of black slacks, a taupe silk blouse, and low-heeled black leather pumps. She looked a little dressy for the bookstore. In fact, this mystery woman looked like she was on a date.

  A date? Jordan backed up a step. Was this what the Internet had dredged up? This woman wasn’t Mac’s type, was she?

  Someone as gorgeous as Mac would certainly want to date a woman whose good looks matched her own and who didn’t dress up to go to the bookstore, for crying out loud. Jordan’s thoughts jolted her again as she realized, despite her obsession with beautiful things, that she rarely spent time thinking about her best friend’s beauty. She’d always taken for granted that Mac was good-looking, with her sassy blond hair, big brown eyes, and that trim, athletic body. She could have anyone she wanted. The very thought made Jordan feel a little agitated.

  “Jordan? What are you doing here?”

  Jordan nearly jumped out of her sk
in as she realized she’d been staring at Mac and the overdressed woman for who knew how long. She plastered a smile on her face and strode toward their table. “Oh, hi, Mac. I was on my way home and decided to swing by and pick up a copy of the Voice.” She casually referenced the local LGBT newspaper.

  “Kind of out of your way, isn’t it?”

  “Well, you don’t know where I’ve been now, do you?”

  Jordan smirked and offered a hand to the mousy woman. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “We haven’t. My name is Charla.” A limp handshake followed.

  “Nice to meet you, Charla.” Jordan did her best to sound warm and friendly instead of horrified by Mac’s decision to meet this unimpressive woman. “Come here often?”

  “Actually, it’s my first time. It’s quaint here. I love books, but I usually shop at Barnes and Noble down the street. This store is very…eclectic.” Charla’s tone gave the impression “eclectic” was a polite term reserved for things she didn’t like.

  Jordan had to speak in defense of her favorite bookstore.

  “Well, this store certainly does have a lot of character. There’s no telling what you’ll find on a given day.”

  “True. However, most of the time I know exactly what I am shopping for and I like the convenience of knowing it will be in stock. I don’t like to have to rely on my ability to stumble across rejections from someone else’s personal library.”

  Jordan turned toward Mac, making little effort to hide her grimace. “Is this a date or what?”

  Mac’s face, already red from watching the tense exchange, deepened in color. “Yep. We were getting to know each other.

  Thanks for stopping by to say hello.”

  Jordan stared at her in disbelief. She recognized the tone, but was taken aback that Mac had blatantly dismissed her.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll see you around.” She waved at the nonentity.

  “It was nice to meet you, Charo.”

  Watching Jordan’s retreating back, Mac refrained from correcting the name. “Sorry,” she mumbled, knowing she could expect a phone call later and a lot of grief about this encounter.

  “Is she one of your exes?” Charla asked.

  A sharp ringing rousted Jordan from a deep afternoon sleep. She struggled to keep the phone cradled against her shoulder as she sat up in bed. “Who is this?”

  “You know who this is. What are you doing asleep in the middle of the day?”

  “Oh, Mac, it’s you.” Jordan yawned. “Slow down with the questions, will you? I was taking a little nap. I didn’t get a lot of rest last night.”

  “That’s no excuse being an ass to my date this morning,” Mac growled.

  “Give me a break. I wasn’t being an ass. I was merely expressing my opinion. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to see her again.” Sleep deprivation didn’t keep Jordan from counting the beats of silence that followed. “You’re not, are you? Going to see her again?”

  “What if I am?”

  “Oh, honey, she’s not your type. She’s not anyone’s type.

  She’s the kind of boring, buttoned-up, frumpy woman who has to resort to finding someone online because, in person, she sends cool chicks like us running. She’s what you get when you post a sappy profile like yours.”

  “I’m going to try to ignore the fact that you’ve just insulted me. For all you know, Charla may be exactly the kind of woman I’m looking for.”

  “If Charla’s your type, then I don’t know you very well.”

  Jordan could feel her voice rising and decided to take a different tack. “Come on, Mac. What about all the dynamic leading ladies in those romances you devour? Charla wouldn’t even rate a bit part.”

  “That’s fiction. I’m looking for a real life partner, not a paperback love affair.”

  “You create your own reality, Mac. Women like that are only fictional if you refuse to let the possibility become reality.

  I went out with someone I met online last night and she was hot. Hell, we even had good conversation during dinner.”

  “Jordan, I am being realistic. Someday you’re going to stop living in the fast lane and realize life isn’t about how many hot women you can bed. I want to find someone to share my life, not for a night, but for a lifetime. So I’m looking at more qualities than looks and sexual prowess. Is that so hard for you to understand?”

  Stung, Jordan retorted, “Well, I can guarantee that if you don’t see an attractive face looking back at you after a night of clumsy sex, then a lifetime is going to seem very long indeed.”

  “Not as long as spending it alone,” Mac replied. “I don’t even know why we bother having these conversations. You’re never going to change.”

  “You’re damn right about that. I will always want the best and never settle for less. I never figured you for the settling kind.”

  After a few long seconds of silence, Mac asked, “Jordan, are you jealous?”

  Jordan almost dropped the phone. Jealous? Could it be that she was jealous? Of what? She loved Mac dearly, but she wasn’t attracted to her that way. Was she?

  “Did you hang up on me?” Mac’s voice jolted her from her disturbing train of thought.

  “No, I’m still here.”

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Why would I be jealous?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Mac. I just woke up and I’m feeling kind of cranky.”

  “What I’m saying is that you always seem to have a hand in helping me pick out my dates, but Charla’s someone I picked out all on my own, with no input from you. Do you think maybe you’re a tiny bit jealous that I can pick my own dates?”

  Ah, Jordan thought, she doesn’t think I am attracted to her, she just thinks I am a control freak. Embarrassed that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, she replied, “Well, I don’t know what I would be jealous of. You don’t seem to be doing such a great job all on your own.”

  She wasn’t sure if Mac even heard the last couple of words. Her reply was inaudible over the sound of the phone slamming down.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I need you to be brutally honest,” Mac said. “Why do you think I’ve never been lucky in love?”

  “Lucky in love, huh? That’s an interesting way of putting it.” Aimee paused as she buttered a roll. “I don’t think luck, bad or good, has anything to do with the fact that you haven’t been in a long-term relationship. You’re no different than Jordan in that respect.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Mac protested.

  “Hear me out. I’m saying you’re married to your restaurant the same way she’s married to that image of herself as a playgirl. Be brutally honest with yourself and ’fess up.

  How many times have you chosen this place over the arms of a woman who was trying to care about you? I can think of a few who gave up once they found they couldn’t compete.”

  Mac took in the full force of Aimee’s words. “Wow, that’s pretty brutal. I guess I always thought if a woman cared about me, she would understand work comes first at times.”

  “Honey, there’s a difference between occasional interruptions to your love life because of a crisis at work and occasional interruptions to your work to have a love life.

  It’s never taken long for your lovers to realize they’re the interruption.”

  “Again, that’s brutal.”

  “But honest. And they must feel pretty darn low on the totem pole when they see that you’re perfectly willing to interrupt work for your friends. When was the last time you told Jordan you were too busy to bike, or go to the bookstore, or whatever?”

  “Easy now. That’s different. Jordan and I have been friends forever. Friendships have to be cultivated and cared for.”

  “Same goes for love, sweetie.” Aimee slid her soup bowl to one side. “Romantic relationships take time, care, and cultivation. It’s not like those romance novels you swallow whole.”

  “I�
�ve been on a lot of dates.” Mac knew she sounded defensive.

  “Wrong. Double-dating with Jordan doesn’t count as a date.”

  “Give me a break. We do all the regular date things.”

  “Let me guess, Jordan usually picks you up first, right?

  Then you pick up your dates. You go somewhere, the four of you, and most of the evening you and Jordan talk to each other until it’s time to split up. She drops off your date, then you, and then takes off with her flavor of the evening. You guys hook up the next day, and you listen to tales about her night of passion.

  Am I close?”

  “Oh, my God. I’m the lamest person there is.”

  “You’re not lame, dear. You’re in a rut. A very comfortable rut. As long as you continue to buddy up with Jordan in your love life, you don’t have to think for yourself, let alone commit.

  You don’t find the dates yourself, so you aren’t personally invested enough to make a go of it. Hell, you don’t even drive or decide where you are going.”

  “For your information, I went on a date yesterday.Awoman I picked entirely by myself. Jordan hadn’t even met her.”

  “Someone you met online?”

  “Yep.”

  “How was it? I’m thinking not great or you would be spending this afternoon pleasantly reminiscing instead of conducting an analysis of your romantic potential.”

  “It was horrible,” Mac admitted. “Her name’s Charla.

  She’s stuffy, self-righteous, and frumpy. It was all I could do to muddle through a conversation with her. To top it off, Jordan showed up and they starting sparring.”

  “Slow down, girl. Jordan showed up on your date?”

  “It was weird. I asked Charla to meet me at Half Price Books for coffee. I figured it was a good setting for a casual ‘let’s see where this goes’ kind of date. We’re sitting there, sipping mochas and wading through tedious conversation when I look up and see Jordan across the room staring at us. It was truly strange. To top it off, I was overcome by this weird need to make Jordan think Charla was a splendid date and we wanted to be left alone, so I totally brushed her off.”